A Christmas Gift
by Bottlebrush
Summary: A happy story for Christmas. Comfort and joy all round. An unexpected message helps Remus and Tonks to sort things out, and Molly gets some good news. Oneshot, complete. Implied slash SBRL.


Title: A Christmas Gift

Rating: T (for language)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world or its characters. J. K. Rowling does.

Summary: A happy story for Christmas. Comfort and joy all round. A message from an unexpected source helps Remus and Tonks to sort themselves out, and Molly receives some good news.

Remus Lupin was no poet. He did not have the imagination nor the temperament, and his talent with words was for so arranging them as to express his meaning with clarity, in plain language that anyone could understand. Simile, metaphor, allegory, and the marshalling of words into rhymed metrical stanzas were all beyond his ability. Except once. He wrote one poem in his life.

It was the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and of Voldemort's return. It was when Sirius, having carried out his mission to alert other members of the Order of the Phoenix, was staying at Remus's hut awaiting further instructions. Remus, already happier than he had ever hoped to be just knowing Sirius was free and innocent, rejoiced to find that Sirius remembered him and still loved him; and the day after they made love for the first time in nearly 14 years, he was so overwhelmed by emotion that he wrote a poem. It was quite short but very intense and detailed in its praise of Sirius's many virtues and charms, and candid in its exposure of the responses of Remus's heart and soul, mind and body. It wasn't a very good poem, technically, but Remus put his whole self into it and Sirius was utterly enchanted. Vowing never to part with it, he folded it up small and placed it in a locket which he wore around his neck for the rest of his short life until it went with him beyond the Veil.

On Christmas morning, the first Christmas after Dumbledore's death, Remus was, as usual, the earliest inhabitant of the Burrow up and about in the kitchen, even before Molly. He liked the mornings when no-one was around, when he could potter about making coffee and pretending there was nobody else in the house. To think there had been a time when he had regretted being alone! Now he wondered if he would ever be alone again. The reason for that was, in a word, Tonks. He couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Not quite as sorry as he was for himself, but sorry nevertheless. It was painful to see a strong, independent, cheerful young woman brought so low, and himself the cause of it. It must be his fault, somehow; he must have done _something_ to make this happen. So, to compensate for his guilt, whatever it was, he must be nice to her, must pretend to feelings he did not have. It was working; she had cheered up considerably, and seemed to have accepted his suggestion that they should take things slowly and learn to know each other better before embarking on further intimacies. But it had to happen; even if he brought her around to his ideas about waiting for marriage, that could only grant him a temporary postponement.

It wasn't that he cared too much what happened to his body. That was only an encumbrance of flesh, a piece of meat to be discarded when its time came. It no longer mattered what his body did. He had already surrendered his physical integrity when he let himself be buggered by Fenrir, as a token of submission to his leader. It had meant nothing. All he had felt was severe discomfort; Fenrir could not touch his heart. He knew Sirius would commend him for doing what was necessary to maintain his credibility with the werewolves. Remus wondered idly if he should tell Tonks about his connection with Fenrir. It might put her off him. But his natural reserve made him shrink from speaking openly about such a thing to anyone, let alone a young woman. And it probably wouldn't work, anyway. It would just be another thing for her to not care about.

And in this new situation, there was a basic difference. With Fenrir, he had only to let it happen. With Tonks, he would be required to _make_ it happen, and he very much doubted his physical capability. Erectile Dysfunction, an unhelpful Muggle book called it. Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Perhaps there was some spell that might help, or a potion……but even if Severus had been available for consultation, Remus could scarcely imagine himself asking his help with such a personal problem.

"Morning."

He glanced up to see Tonks sitting opposite him, looking uncommonly serious. Not moping as she had done a few months before, but serious in a grown-up way. "I've got something for you," she said quietly.

"Oh, I've put yours under the tree," he replied. "Molly said we were all to do that."

"So have I," she said. "This is something else."

She held out a piece of parchment. He took it, seeing his own handwriting. He did not need to read it to know what it was.

"Where did you get this?"

"Last night, or probably in the early hours of the morning, I woke up, and I went to my window, and it was snowing. It looked so beautiful, all that white dropping down from the sky, and I stood and watched it for a while, until I got too cold and turned to go back to bed. Then I saw this on the pillow. It hadn't been there before."

"And you read it?"

She turned red. "Yes. It was addressed to Sirius, and he's……not here, so I thought there was no harm……"

Remus said nothing. _How did it get there? Only one person could have sent it, from……wherever, because he wanted her to read it, and to know……so, he sees. He cares. He _exists.

Encouraged by his silence, she went on: "I know I shouldn't have, but it's good that I did. I understand now. How it really was with you and Sirius. I thought you were just very close friends that got a little……closer, you know, but now……I didn't know what love was, before. I thought _I_ was in love. But it wasn't……you should have told me."

"Yes. I should. Sorry."

"Why didn't you? Instead of fobbing me off with those stupid excuses?"

"They weren't excuses. What I said was true."

"Just not the _whole_ truth."

"No. Sorry."

"Stop saying that, it doesn't help. But as a matter of interest, how far were you prepared to go? I was under the impression we were engaged. Were you really going to _marry_ me?"

"I hoped I would be able to cope."

"_Cope?_ Bloody hell, I'm not a thing to be _coped_ with. I'm a human being."

"Yes. But I'm not."

"Don't start that again. That's got nothing to do with it. You're a better human than most and you know it. But you treated me badly. You weren't honest with me. You've made me feel like a fool."

"You're not a fool. And none of us can help what we feel."

"No, but you can help what you _say_. I thought you could learn to love me. But you're his, aren't you?"

Remus nodded, speechless.

"Alive or dead, it makes no difference, you're his for ever. So this is my real Christmas gift to you. Your freedom. I release you from our engagement."

They both smiled at the quaint old-fashioned phrase.

"Well, I can't stay mad at you indefinitely," she said. "We still have to work together, and I still like you even though you've been a right pillock. Now that's out of the way, maybe we can start over. No more secrets and lies. I want us to be friends."

"So do I. And – I know this is such a cliché – but there really are hundreds of young men out there who would be better for you than I would, and you'll meet one you can truly love."

"I hope so," she said. "I want what you and Sirius had. Have. And I suppose it wasn't _entirely_ your fault. There were the Weasleys and McGonagall putting pressure on you. And I must have been a real drag sometimes."

Remus was saved from having to answer that by Molly, who burst into the kitchen with an envelope in her hand and a beaming smile on her face. "Guess what!" she exclaimed. "Charlie's got leave to spend the holiday with us. He'll be here in time for Christmas dinner. You've not met Charlie yet, have you Tonks? Now, are you two going to sit there all day, or are you going to help me get dinner started?"

_Note: Organised flame-campaigns welcome. I can do with a laugh._


End file.
